


Don't leave me now

by SuperMarshmallowCloud



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Angst, Book of Joseph, Childhood Trauma, Drug Use, Flashbacks, Multi, Pre- Far Cry 5, Promiscuity, Self-Harm, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-05-04 16:17:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14596854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperMarshmallowCloud/pseuds/SuperMarshmallowCloud
Summary: John's life spirals out of control, despite never having control in the first place.Set during John's life in the events of The Book of Joseph.





	1. The Sinner

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning  
> This fic has depictions of self harm and elements of torture. If you're not comfortable then don't read :)
> 
> Also this is my first ever fic so be gentle.

John Duncan groaned as he lifted his hand to his head, attempting to ease the excruciating pain that was pounding to every beat of his heart. He slowly forced his eyes open and almost shut them again from the light of the morning sun. Or was it noon?

“Michael” John mumbled as he slapped the body lying next to him. “What time is it?” Michael was John’s drug dealer, one of them anyway. They hooked up now and again, that or getting doped around a tray of cocaine. Michael knew John always had money to spare. It worked out nicely for the both of them.

“Twelve” a voice grumbled. John shot up, spinning around he stared at _somebody_.

“Who are you?”

“Not Michael, although” he looked John up and down “I’m starting to wish I was”. The man who was twice his age, dazed and reeking of alcohol smirked at him. John tried not to grimace. Waking up next to a stranger was not uncommon for him. Drugs, booze and sex all gave him a high. A way out of his distorted thoughts, but once he was sober it all came crashing down again. It didn’t matter who came on to who because now John couldn’t stand to even look at him.

“Where you goin?” John turned his head while in the middle of finding the rest of his clothes. “You could stay awhile you know” slurred the stranger. John turned his back on him again.

“No, I’m getting out of here” John spoke, pulling on his coat.

“Do you even know where here _is_?” John whipped around, he was almost offended until he remembered this was his own fault.

“Of course,” voice devoid of emotion.

“Oh yeah? What’s my name?” laughed the stranger. John couldn’t speak, the thought of being in the apartment any longer sickened him. And he quickly leaves without another word.

-

 After arriving at his apartment John immediately ran to the bathroom leaning over the toilet bowl and vomiting up all the alcohol from the night before, (luckily, he was able to keep it down during the taxi ride).

The sight of John Duncan, a lawyer at Atlanta’s top law firm pathetically coughing up bile after a drunken escapade is not one many would see. Perfect hair, perfect teeth, perfect manicured nails, and a perfect fake smile. Along with lying and blackmailing his way up to the top earned him his title.

But every mask slips. And every time it did, John found himself like this; high and drunk in someone’s bed. Married or single. Cop or drug dealer. It made no difference when seeking safety in someone. He belonged to no one, but at the same time belonged to everyone.

John sat on his sofa swallowing pain killers. When the phone rang John could’ve threw it across the room when he saw the number on the screen. But instead he crumbled to the ground covering his ears trying to drown out the sound of the ringing. _They know, oh god they know!_ John’s thoughts raced back to when he was fifteen, when his Father forced him to rip out two of his fingernails. One for each immoral thought he was supposedly having.

_‘It’s for your own good John’_

_‘Repent and except your punishment’_

He remembered the blood between his fingers. The hand gripping his arm when he tried to run away. John felt sick. Waking up to a stranger? Surely that’s worth ten fingernails.

The phone eventually stopped ringing and John took his hands away from his ears. He felt disgusting. His parents wanted to free him of his sins.

_I’ll do it for them_

He stood up shakily and began frantically searching his pockets. His hand found a small box. Cigarettes. John pulled out his lighter and clicked the flame to life. Just as his Mother always said: _Do you know where sinners go John?_

Twisting the cigarette between his fingers, he placed it over the flame from hell. Causing the smell of tobacco to fill the air.

_Repent your sin John_

“I’m sorry” he chokes out. Bringing the lit cigarette down onto his forearm. He couldn’t stop himself from crying out when he held it in place. _This will make me clean again._ There was a blister in the place of the cigarette after pulling it away. Was this enough? His arm burned and itched around the blister, but it took another three of them to make him feel clean again.

John wiped the tears from his face, _maybe now I’ll be forgiven._

 


	2. The Saint

Barrett’s law firm, the biggest in Atlanta. John was one of many lawyers working there. Most people saw a bunch of uppity snobs with their fancy law degrees. John just saw offices full of sinners oozing with wretched pride. But it didn’t matter what John thought, all what mattered was what _they_ thought. And all they saw was a young fresh out of law school lawyer, looking younger than he actually was with an innocent smile offered to each co-worker he passed in the hall way. All of them were puppets on strings, they just didn’t know it yet.

There was an offer made to the firm, like many others John couldn’t care less what the response was going to be. Until he heard the name.

 Rome

Some well to do housing company wanted to knock down the old neighbourhood and build new houses for a bunch of snobs to move into. This was it. It had to be. But John had to be sure. After looking up the address, John’s old neighbourhood was frozen on the computer screen. A few tears escaped the corners of his eyes. It was the home of the person he used to be. John Seed’s birth place.

 _Burn it to the ground, make it seem like it never existed, and then it will all be over_.

But it never came. John’s ‘boss’ Richard Barrett rejected the offer, and then it was business as usual.

_Greedy fucker accepted every other opportunity to stuff his pockets full of cash, but now it’s different?_

 No. John would get what he wanted one way or another. He just had to pull the puppet strings. So, he started by going to a bar with colleagues after work, he’d rejected all the past offers to do so but this was different. Richard was there.

After a few weeks of feigning innocence and stroking his ego, the little bar trips became just the two of them. And then finally, in a drunken stupor he cracked.

Richard confessed to the guilt of a yearlong affair with some model half his age. All behind his poor wife’s back.

“But I do still love her, John”

“Of course,” he spoke, eyes remaining soft. _Love? Really?_ John wasn’t even sure that love existed. The only real experience he had to go on was whatever his parents had with each other, and any word _but_ love could be used to describe that turmoil. Love was just a concoction of lust and obsession, and Richard and his wife couldn’t even do that long enough before he was pouring his fidelity down the drain. And money into some gold digger’s pockets.

Romance may be a myth, but John still knew love. No, _John Seed_ knew love. Gentle hands wiping tears from his cheeks before being adopted and taken away. A soft voice reading his favourite bed time story. The memories were always vague and foggy being from so long ago, but his mind still clung to Joseph and Jacob.

Their mother, his other mother. John could barely remember her face, even though she lived with them. She walked around the house like a ghost, like she was dead already. Joseph his older brother, supplied himself where she should have been: making his breakfast in the morning, dressing him, brushing his hair. And holding him close whenever their father decided they needed disciplining.

Their father (if he could even be called that), was violent for reasons he didn’t understand at the time. A crazed monster living under their roof, beating all of them with his belt when he felt like it. Jacob his oldest brother, was their protector. John remembered him having near constant black eyes and bruises from beatings. Yelling at their father while standing in front of Joseph and himself.

But. There were still real happy times. A sunny day. A walk with his brothers, holding hands with the both of them. Jacob _smiling_ and ruffling his hair. Love did exist, but it was like a movie playing in Johns head just before he fell asleep. Visions of his real family laughing and crying with him. Reminding him of who he used to be, and who he could have been. And it all had to go.

 

-

John couldn’t help grinning when Richard agreed to go for drinks with him after the day was over. He was right where he wanted him. Smug bastard thought that _he_ was Johns boss? No. John was the puppet master. And Richard was the arrogant fool walking right into his hands.

Usual bar. Usual time. Usual setting, only this time John knew this was his time to act. The plan was the same one as always; drink one alcoholic drink and let Richard drink many many more.

At times like this John always led people to believe he had drank much more than what he had, and feigned drunkenness. Richard on the other hand, was tipsy enough to spill out more secrets. Not that John cared, he already had all the information he wanted.

“John, you are so young yet already proving yourself as one of the best lawyers in Atlanta”

“I owe that to you Mr Barrett” John said smiling brightly.

Richard looked down at his glass, “You are wrong to think so highly of me after all I’ve told you”.

Taking another swig from his glass John giggled, “well maybe I just have low standards”.

Richard began to chuckle, knocking back the rest of his whisky.

_This is my chance_

“An- and anyway if I didn’t then everyone in the office would know _all_ about that by now” John said giggling. Richard looked at John confused but laughed anyway. John suddenly stopped laughing and looked his boss in the eye grinning, “and they still could you know?”

“Duncan…” Richard said warningly.

“What?! Why not? You told _me_ after all. Don’t you want to be an ‘honest man’ again?” John chocked on the word ‘honest’ and began giggling like a child, burying his head in his arms to try and silence his laughter. Wiping a tear away from the corner of his eye, he looked up at his ‘boss’ face again.

“What are you saying Duncan?” Richard said looking horrified now.

“I’m _saying_ the least you could do is do me a little favour, take the Rome deal and knock that neighbourhood to the ground”. Richard was speechless. John picked his glass up and held it out in front of him. “Oh, and I want another drink”.

-

John left the bar practically skipping. He’s on a high and shivering uncontrollably, he rubs his arms for warmth even though it’s the middle of summer.

_Stupid old bastard_

John giggled to himself, Richard got what was coming to him. Maybe he should have thought twice before he allowed lust to get the better of him, all John did was rub his face in it. Sinner. They were all sinners.

His hysteria dizzied him, but now was the time to have fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! ^_^


	3. The Rapture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New chapter after a bad case of writers block. Enjoy!

Smoke filled John’s lungs as the chemical nail polish remover like smell filled the air. Pupils blown wide, euphoria overtook John’s mind. Like singing birds on a warm summer breeze, like free falling, like nothing else mattered. He placed the pipe back onto the coffee table and glanced up. He saw Wendy, a solicitor from the law firm. She wasn’t the best in her line of work, but she got the job done. But then again John didn’t really _know_ her, just that she liked to get high now again. Shown by the completely cracked out of her mind, stupid as fuck grin that was on her face. John felt vibration from the music blasting throughout his penthouse. The party was full of either co- workers, gangsters, police officers, actors, the occasional judge, and people who didn’t ask too many questions.

_Well no time like the present!_

John looked over at Wendy as she was lighting the pipe again.

_She’s always up for a good time._

John felt his heart rate increase, “Hey! So, do you think I’m good looking or what?”. Wendy looked up at him confused at his sudden outburst.

“Yeah, for a kid” she giggled.

“Its just I can’t stop thinking about you, and I know _I’m_ always up for a good time” John jabbered on as if he had gone mad. Cocaine always did this to him and he knew it, but he just couldn’t stop. Wendy may have looked surprised at John’s outburst if she wasn’t stoned.

“I have a boyfriend y’ know”.

“He wouldn’t mind” he said quickly, John didn’t know him but who the fuck cared what he thought. Wendy threw her head back laughing.

“Fuck, have you always been such a slut Duncan?”. John stood up at that. A slut? Why the fuck would that matter? All John wanted was _something_ as a distraction from the daily nightmarish thoughts. If that made him a slut then so be it, none of it matters. He had nothing to lose anymore, he would always be a sinner. Live fast, die young, leave a beautiful corpse.

John walked away, leaving Wendy to the cocaine. He undid the top three buttons on his shirt and tried to make his presence known. And finally, it was. After a few drinks the arm of someone he didn’t know was around him. Ryan, somebody’s plus one probably. But it didn’t matter, John had got what he wanted.

But he stopped in his tracks when they almost reached his bedroom. Suddenly his senses felt like they had been intensified, everything was too much. The music was too loud, and his clothes suddenly felt suffocating. John tried to catch his breath as it sped up. Ryan looked at him confused when he pulled his hands away shakily to rub the clamminess away on his clothes. He tried to pull John the rest of the way to the bedroom door, until John yanked his arm out of Ryan’s grip.

“The fuck is your problem?” Ryan spat, annoyed now. Even though to he was charming to John five minutes ago. John held his hands away from Ryan, his breathing still erratic. “Will you stop being such a tease?” He growled pulling John again. But it was all frighteningly familiar, John felt his father’s hands gripping him hard enough to bruise. His vision darkened around the edges as he lashed out, his fist colliding with Ryan’s face.

“Get the fuck off me! Don’t fucking touch me! Get out of my house!” John screamed, pushing Ryan away with full force. Ryan stumbled backwards hand over his nose where John had punched him.

Scrambling down the rest of the hallway, John slammed his bedroom door behind him and locking it with shaking hands. Crouched in the corner of the room, hands covering his ears because even though the closed door obscured the music somewhat to John it was deafening.

“Just get out. Just get out. Get out of my house!” He yelled with his eyes scrunched shut. He didn’t know if Ryan was outside the door or not, but it didn’t matter. He wanted them all gone.

After what seemed like hours in the fetal position, the music finally stopped. His eyes darted towards the locked door, trying to listen for footsteps or voices.

Silence.

John’s breathing finally began to slow. But he felt something wet on his face. Lifting a hand up he saw blood that was pouring from his nose. Maybe he really would die young, but the corpse left behind would not be so pretty.

 

 

It was days later. After John had slept off the hangover and the cocaine crash. And it was back to business as usual. No one at work had brought up his out burst at the party, they all knew the score if they did. He might just be a lawyer, but John was the one in complete control of the firm. After returning to the penthouse after a particularly tedious case, in which everyone down to the witnesses were all spewing lies. So, John fit right in.  

Walking over to his phone, he noticed one message from a specific number. _Them._ John couldn’t breathe. John never gave his parents his mobile number as he didn’t want them to have that kind of power, but he had no choice but to give them his apartment number to avoid them going to him in person to speak to him.

The truth is that no matter how much John wanted to deny it, no matter how much he pushed his mother and father away. They were always in his head, influencing every single decision he made. It didn’t matter if he moved away and never came back. Like gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe, he’d just take them both with him.

John’s breath quickened as he slowly pushed the play button. _‘John’_ he gasped as he heard his fathers voice. _‘I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of the importance of honouring your parents as I have taught you many times just as it states in the bible. But you continue to ignore my calls, as if you have something to hide. So, tell me John do you have sins to hide? Because the way you have behaved inclines me to believe so. John, to prove your purity and your standing in this family, come see me tonight. Because you know what I’ll be forced to think if you don’t’._ John could only stare.

 


	4. The Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay! This chapter is a lot longer than usual but I hope you read it til the end :). This chapter contains depiction of bloodly violence, and reference to child abuse. If you're not into that then this isn't the chapter for you.

 He could have thrown the phone at the wall. After receiving his father’s message John almost threw up from panic.

_Not again, not again, not again!_

Shaking all over he ran out of the room and immediately to his stash under his bed. Ripping open the small plastic bag filled with white powder; tipping some out onto his hand, bringing it close to his face, and inhaling in deep.

_Fuck em. They only want me when they want to prove a point. Or when it suits them._

The familiar feeling of cocaine took over his senses as he flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. However, the zooned-out feeling didn’t last long before he was on the brink of panic again. If he didn’t show up would they eventually show up at his apartment? He could always quit his job, skip town and never be seen in Atlanta again. He could do it, he had money practically coming out his ears.

_Yeah run-away coward! Then they’ll never see how consumed with sin you are. Running away will only prove them right._

Maybe he should go, confess all his sins and _then_ leave town, cut ties and never see them again. Prove he wasn’t a complete disgusting sinner. The cries of his younger self echoed in his head, _I’m sorry, I’ll be good!_ John gripped his hair and scrunched his eyes shut, trying to force himself to stop remembering.

He was dressed in a nice shirt, hair brushed, nails manicured, not too fancy but he looked presentable. John gripped the kitchen counter tightly to stop himself from shaking.

_You can do this._

Unscrewing a bottle of vodka, John poured it in a small glass.

_Just one John, to take the edge off._

But John never had learned the act of moderation. And one turned to two. And two turned to an unknown number after John had stopped counting. He swayed when he stood up from the kitchen table, the room spinning around him. John looked at his watch realizing he was over an hour late. Which led him to frantically waving down a taxi.

John’s throat burned as he took another swig of his vodka disguised as water, used so that his taxi driver wouldn’t suspect his drunkenness. Which would have worked had John not slurred the name of his destination and failed to completely fasten his seat belt.

Trying not to puke in the backseat when the driver took sharp turns, John caught the reflection of himself in the window. Dazed expression, eyes bloodshot, dark circles under his eyes. Broken. He was just a shell of a man. But was he a man? Most of the time John just felt like a child in an adult’s body. A child crying out for help, for his brothers.

Yes, he was broken. But for what? The sake of tripping over himself in an attempt to prove his purity to his mother and father? After years of punishment and confession he’d become what exactually? Some lying drunk junkie slut.

It was almost funny; his parents were responsible for him turning out this way. Even though they tried so hard to make him pure. He’d rub it in their faces, show them they were the sinners all along. John had to stifle his giggles in the backseat, causing the taxi driver to glance confused in the front mirror.

The taxi pulled up outside the house. John stumbled up the drive way after throwing money at the taxi driver. The cold air suddenly hit him making him feel like he might throw up. The curtains were drawn but the lights were still on. If John’s parents thought he wasn’t going to show up, they were staying up late.  

Even though the ground was spinning, John got a good look at the house he had not returned to since he left years ago. Much too big for only too people, neatly trimmed hedges, polished door knocker on the front door. The unabashed pride only made John struggle to stifle his laughter. Once he had made it to the porch, he didn’t bother knocking. So, he clumsily swung the door that hadn’t been locked yet open.

Once inside John knew he had to shut up but he just couldn’t help it, he had to cover his mouth to stop the drunken giggles from escaping. How didn’t he notice before? His parents were just as sinful as he was. Only difference was that John didn’t go around claiming purity.

“John” came a voice across the hall. He looked up to see Mrs Duncan standing in front of him. She wore a modest blue dress, her best jewellery and a stern expression. In fact, she hadn’t changed much at all since John last saw her. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” His mother didn’t sound angry though her voice was cold.

“Time you got a watch, mother” John giggled. Her expression changed from stern to confused, then shocked.

“You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?! Haven’t you?! Even after all that we’ve taught you, you’d still disgrace this family like this?” Mrs Duncan brought her hands to her mouth in shock. John could see the clear shock on her face, but his heart pounded from adrenaline and alcohol made his head swim. All he could do was laugh at the irony of it all.

“You’d talk to your mother like that?” a stern voice came from another room. _His father._ Mr Duncan came into John’s view and stood in front of him. Even after all these years he was still taller than John. He looked down at him wearing his best suit. When John lived with them he couldn’t even look him in the eye when father looked at him with that same cold expression. But now John giggled nervously while looking at him unabashedly drunk in the face.

“Like what father?” John spoke trying to contain his laughter. “I dunno what you’re talking about”.

Mr Duncan looked John up and down. “You’d come here drunk? Talk to your mother with such disrespect? I know you’ve been ignoring my calls. I wanted you to come here because I wanted to make sure you have reframed from immoral behaviour. But seeing you now, I’m almost too afraid to ask what it is you have been doing all this time John!”

“What I’ve been doing?! Father father, only having the time of my life!” John bent over with laughter, causing Mr and Mrs Duncan to look at him disturbed. “I’ve really been _living_ father! There was Michael and the other one, but I can’t remember his name. But I _do_ remember that he showed me a good time. Being a lawyer has sure been great! I’m _so_ glad you talked me into it father!” John laughed so hard his face hurt, and John’s father looked at him shocked.

“What do you mean showed you a good time, John?” His father has asked nervously.

“Come now father don’t be like that! I’m not twelve anymore, you don’t have to pretend I don’t know what grown ups do together! Anyway, it’s nothing serious. Its not like I stuck around to cuddle or have breakfast or anything!”

_I need to stop this, I need to shut up._

“Shut your mouth!” John felt himself fall backwards after his father’s fist collided with his cheek. “The devil has possessed you that’s what has happened John”. John couldn’t laugh anymore, all he felt was rage.

“Don’t you fucking touch me bastard!” Leaping back to his feet and yelling in his father’s face. John felt him try to grab the collar of his shirt, until he smacked his hands away. “Get the fuck away from me!”

High on adrenaline, John pushed Mr Duncan away and sprinted down that hallway. What the hell was he doing? The first door John saw was the door to the kitchen, so he quickly leaped inside and locked the door. Breathing hard, he shakily stepped away from the door. John put his head in his hands, gripping his hair and stifling his screams into his hands.

_Fuck this. Fuck this. Fuck it all._

He soon heard angry footsteps close, then the thudding of a fist at the door. “Open the door John! I don’t know what has caused you to act like this, but what on earth do you want John?!” What did he want? He wanted to die. He wanted to live. He wanted to be free. He wanted the world to go away. He wanted _them_ to go away.

John could feel his father start to kick the door down. Wide eyed and afraid, John shakily tried grabbing a knife from the knife holder on the kitchen counter. Dropping it a few times from shaking so hard, until he was behind the standing behind the door when the hinges on the door gave way. The door finally slammed opened, and John’s father looked him in the eye and tried to grab him.

_Not again I won’t be your prisoner again!_

John almost without thinking brought the knife down into the top of his father’s head. Warm blood soaking his shirt and spraying upon his face. John heard a scream and looked up to see his own mother clutching her head and looking down at what _he_ had done. John’s instincts were swift and he had no idea what he was even doing when he leapt and slit his mother’s throat his the very same knife.

 

 

 

One could only wonder how it ended up this way. Mr and Mrs Duncan were lying face down in a growing puddle of their own blood. Looking down, John’s hands were covered in it.

_Maybe bad things follow me around._

He looked up away from his hands to the two sinners on the floor.

_No! They deserved this, just like I did. They would have rather live a life of sin than swallow their own pride. And if they won’t swallow it, they should have to wear it._

Picking the bloody knife from the floor, John bent down to his father’s arm rolling up the sleeve.

_Right here, on the arm you used to beat to beat me with._

He brought the knife down onto the corpse’s forearm, engraving a jagged ‘P’ into the flesh. More blood began to seep out onto the floor, and the room began to smell like rust. After finishing his father’s arm, he did the same to his mother’s. John stood up to admire his handy work. ‘PRIDE’. Their sins were now etched into their bodies for all the world to see.

Fuck. Everyone will see. John’s body ran with blood that was now beginning to dry. He frantically wiped his hands on his sleeves in an attempt to get clean after catching a glimpse of himself in the window reflection. There was no way he’d be able to move and hide the bodies by himself, much less conceal the evidence splattered all around the kitchen. No. There was only one thing left to do.

John couldn’t lift his father by himself, physical strength had never been one of his strong suits anyway. So, grabbing the corpse under the arms and dragging it out of the kitchen was all he could do. The house was filled with deafening silence. The only noise was the sound of John’s laboured breaths as he tried pulling his father up the staircase. A red trail followed him as blood stained the steps and led back into the kitchen.

The corpse was dragged down the hallway lifelessly like a rag doll, he was almost there, but John stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the door to the room in front of him. _His room._ The door was wide open, and the inside was pitch black. For the first time since leaving his parent’s house John truly wanted to be anywhere then where he was at that moment.

Trapped for days on end in that room, apologizing over and over. Staring at the ceiling in unbearable pain, in that _damn_ room. Feeling as though he was being pulled in, John tried to move but couldn’t. As though by simply remembering repressed memories he would be forced back inside to relive the same torture. He could feel his father’s cold flesh in his grip, dropping him suddenly with a shriek.

_This is wrong! Somebody stop me, nothing good can come from this!_

The corpse’s eyes were still open, it’s piercing gaze was the same as it always was. John forced himself to look away, grabbing the door handle and slamming it shut.

_Get a fucking grip Duncan._

John resumed dragging the body, after reaching the bedroom he managed to get it on top of the bed. Carrying his mother up the stairs was easier, after retrieving her body he placed them side by side.

A couple gone to bed and unfortunately forgot to blow out the candle. The curtains catch fire, and the couple both die of suffocation by smoke inhalation. John knows this cover up will not work forever, especially since his father has a stab wound to the head. But this will do for now.

After washing off as much blood from his body as possible, John took some of his fathers’ clean clothes and discarded his stained ones. To make sure the bodies are sufficiently burned, he emptied the rest of the vodka over the bodies. They know where they’re going though don’t they? Surely.

John lit the candle on the bedside table with his cigarette lighter, and then pushed it underneath the curtains. Before long wild flames were rising higher and higher. He stood in the doorway, watching as black smoke obscured the two sinners lying on the bed. It was just as they both said; The wicked go down to the realm of the dead, all the nations that forget God.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Tumblr!  
> https://supermarshmallowcloud.tumblr.com/


End file.
